Page 53 of What’s Left of Us

“Are you sure?” he interrupted. He grabbed my hips, moving me over his arousal, attention flickering from my face to my spread legs. “Of course I want to, if you’re sure you’re ready.”

“I’m sure.” Breathing felt easier, my chest looser. “I really want to.”

And so our clothes came off with frenetic energy. We decided to start with me on my back, if only because it seemed the most straight-forward. I had my legs loosely wrapped around his waist and my hands resting on his shoulders.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said.

I knew it was going to hurt. I’d heard as much from Nat, and from some of the girls on my tennis team. When he pushed inside me though, it was more pain than I expected. I let out a small whine as he inched deeper, and his entire face clenched.

“Is it hurting you too?” I asked. My thighs ached, his hipbones digging sharply into them, spreading me wide.

“No.” He let out a breathless laugh. “This is the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

“Yeah?” I asked, and somehow, that dulled the pain, transformed it into something sharply pleasant.

“Yeah,” he said. He braced his hands on either side of my head, leaning closer to brush his lips over mine. “I’ll make it good for you. Okay? If not this time, then next. Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

“It’s not too much.” I grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He pressed a few inches deeper, and we both gasped.

“Fuck.” He hung his head, resting his brow against my shoulder. “I’m not going to last, Vi. It’s too much. Too good. You’re too…perfect.”

The pain eased again. It still hurt, but his words of praise made it difficult to focus on the pain. Indescribable pleasure streamed through me, the sensation of being exactly where I was meant to be.

“I’m barely in, and I’m going to come already,” he said, and he sounded gutted by that fact. His muscles clenched, and I traced them through the darkness.

“I love you,” I whispered. It was far from the first time I’d spoken those words, but they were the thing to push him over the edge.

In the aftermath, after he finished me off with his fingers, he cradled me to his chest and promised me he’d love me forever. And despite the fact we were sixteen, I knew he meant it.

Chapter 23

now

“It’s so good,” I moan, tipping my head back against the tiled wall. Hot water streams from overhead, spilling over my breasts, down my front, and into Atlas’s hair. He’s knelt before me, holding my right leg over his shoulder. His other hand is on my hip, keeping me pressed against the wall. All around us, steam fills the air, making my entire body sing.

“My tongue, or the water?” Atlas pulls back, and my hips instinctively chase him.

“Both.” I tangle a hand through his dark hair, whimpering as his lips brush against my clit. Then, “Sorry. I’m being too loud.”

He doesn’t pull back to respond, but one of his hands swats the side of my butt. I don’t know if he’s agreeing with me or not. It doesn’t really matter. Every time I decide to be quiet, he does something new with his tongue that draws another sound from me.

“You’re g-good at this,” I stutter. My hips rock against his face by their own accord. “I missed it. I m-m⁠—”

He sucks my clit, hard and without warning. I didn’t realize I was close, but just like that, I’m coming. My head spins and my legs feel like they’re made of gelatin. I sag against the shower wall, writhing as Atlas licks every last drop of my orgasm.

“Beautiful,” he says when he pulls away. He’s knelt on the shower floor, looking up at me like he’s bowed before a goddess. “You’re so beautiful, Violet.”

I tug his hair until he’s standing again. I’ve gone delirious with lust, with desperation, with need. He’s barely on his feet when I’m climbing him, hooking my ankles around his back. And then we’re kissing again, water spraying against our sides, his arousal hot and hard between my legs.

“I need to take the edge off,” he says against my lips. As he speaks, he grinds me against his cock. My pussy throbs, aching, already greedy for another orgasm. It takes me a second to process his words.

“The edge?” I manage to ask. I tip my head back, letting him decorate my neck with open-mouthed kisses.

“Yeah,” he says, almost apologetic. “It’s going to feel too good. I’m not going to last.”

“That’s what you said the night we lost our virginity.” I close my eyes, smiling. “Haven’t built up endurance, huh?”

I expect him to laugh or to tease me right back. Instead, he huffs against my ear.